During one of the darkest periods of my life, I was so down that -- no matter how I struggled to -- I could not remember what happiness was nor whether I'd ever felt it. But I had one thing going for me: I had work to drive me and to make me forget myself for many, many hours each day. Now I'm headed for a dark place again; this time, though, I have nothing to make me forget. Work doesn't drive me as it once did. If I have any goals, they're things I can accomplish from home; unfortunately, home is no place to be when you want to escape from yourself.
I'm trying not to fall into that cycle, but I feel history stalking me. I hear it whispering that it's time for a repeat. I try to stay one step ahead of the shadows, but only because it seems like I should. I've got no reasons to. No cares.
I feel like letting go; I feel like embracing the darkness. History may not be a welcome visitor, but at least it's a familiar one.
